


Hot Chocolate

by haymitch (noblydonedonnanoble)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/haymitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning to Storybrooke, Hook visits Emma at her apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Chocolate

                Upon returning to Storybrooke, Emma finds herself facing a dilemma. At the moment, she wants nothing more than to go home, curl up with some hot chocolate and doze off in front of the television. Unfortunately, the people of the town appear to be in dire need of a sheriff. As much as she wants to, she can’t very well shirk her responsibilities.

                When all is said and done, she still shouldn’t be going home anyway—while Cora may not have made it through the portal with them, she looked a little too pleased when Emma last laid eyes on her, so Emma should be working with Regina (a concept that terrified her) to figure out what Cora’s next move might be. She should also be keeping an eye on the Hook/Gold situation. Not because she has any concerns about Gold’s ability to take care of himself, but simply because she doesn’t want those two to destroy the whole town in their attempts to destroy each other.

                 Pure exhaustion is her main motivation. She returns to her shared apartment with Mary Margaret and changes into a night shirt before busying herself at the stove. Because she really, _really_ needs some hot chocolate.

                Just as she’s getting out a mug, there’s a knock on the door. She can’t think of anyone who it might be aside from Henry, so she eagerly goes to answer it.

                Her smile disappears immediately. “What are you doing here?”

                “That’s not a very courteous way to greet a guest,” Hook says cheerfully. He doesn’t wait for her to invite him inside, instead simply stepping over the threshold.

                “But a very acceptable way to greet an uninvited guest. What are you doing here?” She closes the door, walks past him and returns to the stove, filling her mug nearly to the brim. Even though he comes to stand behind her, Emma ignores his presence and busies herself with whipped cream and cinnamon.

                Instead of answering her question, Hook reaches for the can of whipped cream. “What is this?”

                She pushes it out of his reach and turns to look at him. “It’s one of many things that I’ve gained a new appreciation for after being in your messed-up fairytale land. But that doesn’t matter right now. Why are you _here_?”

                “Getting revenge on Rumplestiltskin, remember? I know we must have discussed this. You seemed to rather approve of the idea when I first explained.”

                “No, Hook. Not here in Storybrooke. Here at my apartment when I’m about to go to bed.” He looks her up in down and takes in her clothing (or rather distinct lack thereof). Something in his eyes changes, and Emma flushes.

                “Could I try some of that drink?” he asks.

                With an exasperated sigh, she grabs another mug from the cabinet and pours the remaining hot chocolate into it. “I was hoping Henry might come over, so I had some extra. Drinking hot chocolate… It’s kind of our thing.” She gestures to the can of whipped cream and cinnamon. “Have at it.”

                Emma watches, amused, as Hook struggles with the nozzle of the can. “Alright Hook, third time, now: care to tell me why you’re here?”

                He finally succeeds with the whipped cream, and moves on to the cinnamon. “Your son told me about the reputation of Captain Hook in this world; I think I’d prefer it if you’d call me Killian.”

                “Hook, Killian, same difference.” She strolls over to the couch and covers herself in a blanket.

                “Don’t do that,” he says, grinning. “I was enjoying the view.”

                By this point, she’s lost the patience to come up with a retort. “Killian! _What are you doing in my apartment?_ ”

                No one freaks him out, but Emma seems so angry that he’s frankly a little freaked out. “I… I just…” He frowns slightly. “This town is strange.”

                “As are you. What’s your point?”

                “I’m not… I’m not very good at communicating how I feel.”

                Given that Emma has always felt equally uncomfortable when discussing feelings, she turns her direct attention to her hot chocolate. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.” She isn’t sure she really wants to follow.

                Hook sits down next to her and takes a sip of his own drink. “Can we just say that I wanted to see you and leave it at that?”

                She looks up at him, preparing to say something, but she forgets exactly what and starts chuckling instead. “Killian, you’ve got whipped cream on your chin.”

                “Do I?” He brushes at it with his thumb, and then smears it on her nose. “I think you got some on your nose.”

                “No, no.” Emma scoots away from him slightly. “I don’t approve of the direction this is going.”

                “What direction?” he asks, puzzled.

                “This whole cliché of the whipped cream.”

                “What cliché?”

                Emma gives him a look. “In this scenario, it always seems to lead to a kiss.”

                “Oh. Well, we definitely want to avoid that,” Hook says slowly. “Don’t we?”

                “Yes. Yes we do.”

                He takes another sip of hot chocolate. “Good. Then that’s decided.”

                They sit in silence together for a while. “It’s because you’re familiar,” he says at last.

                “Pardon?”

                “In this whole town, you’re the only person with whom I’m familiar. And whom I also like. To an extent.”

                She takes a moment to gauge his expression. “You’re still not going to kiss me.”

                “’Course not.”

                In spite of herself, Emma grins.


End file.
